


Christmas Eve Stakeout

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thieves steal toys from ophans.  The guys are determined to bring the Grinch-like creeps to justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!
> 
> Ursula
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wrote this story on Christmas Eve in 2003 under the pseudonym Larkspur

Christmas Eve Stakeout

By Larkspur

Spending Christmas Eve on a stakeout waiting to see if Grinch-like burglars would take the bait they'd set to trap them, was NOT the way Starsky and Hutch wanted to be spending the holidays. But the thieves had made a BIG mistake when they decided to rip off the moving van full of presents for needy families when the driver pulled over at a restaurant to use the bathroom and get a cup of coffee because she needed the caffeine. 

They'd cleared the driver of any complicity in the theft. Easily done, since the driver was an off duty cop from L.A.'s Foothill Division who was working two jobs to make extra money to give her own kids a good Christmas. They'd relieved Bridgette O'Reilly and Bret Fong at midnight. Bret was a cop from Metro Precinct who was more than happy to spend the shift in an unmarked car with the pretty single Mom. Bridgette had already worked her graveyard shift patrol in the Foothill Division. With Dobey's permission and her captain's blessing, O'Reilly did double duty again today hoping to be part of the team that caught the thieves who'd dealt her ego a bruising blow. 

Now Bridgette was at home with her Three Wise Cracking Men; her husband Steve and their twin boys Austin and Dallas. Starsky and Hutch had relieved them at 10:00 p.m. It was almost midnight, and the driver of the van and his buddies were due to arrive at any minute.

Every year a group of eight guys got together at midnight on Christmas Eve to be Santa's Helpers. They dressed up in elf costumes and drove a van called The Reindeer Express to the orphanage. They parked in the detached garage behind the orphanage and merrily carried boxes and boxes full of toys through the underground passage that led from the garage to the basement of the huge old mansion that had been converted into an orphanage in the 1940's. In the 1920's, before Prohibition was repealed, the rich man who'd lived in the mansion had made his fortune as a bootlegger. 

Now, instead of whiskey, wine and rum being smuggled into the house under cover of darkness, toys for lonely orphans would be transported into the house as quietly as possible. If any of the kids heard something and tried to sneak downstairs to find out what was going on, they would be stopped by one of the house mothers who was acting as hall monitor from midnight until dawn. If they peeked out the window they wouldn't see a thing, but they would hear all these wondrous noises and the magic of Christmas would be kept alive for as long as they chose to believe in it.

So far the fish weren't taking the bait, so Starsky and Hutch were trying to keep themselves entertained in Hutch's dilapidated jalopy. The battered LTD was parked in the alley across from the warehouse where they could see the warehouse and the parking lot, but no one could see them.

Starsky was reading one of the books Huggy Bear had left in stockings he'd hung on their front doors. Starsky's favorite--naturally--was Christmas Humor For Humbugs, the book Huggy Bear had tucked into Hutch's stocking. Hutch resented being called a humbug, so he'd given the book to Starsky saying, "I am NOT a humbug. I'm a conscientious objector when it comes to Christmas."

"Why would you want to protest against, candy, cookies, presents, sparkling lights and eggnog, Hutch?"

"Because lots of innocent pine trees are sacrificed so they can cry prickly tears when their needles shrivel up and drop off. I'm against deforestation. Cutting down trees to make something useful is one thing. Cutting down trees just to decorate them and show off is vanity."

"It's damn hard to put an Easy Bake Oven or Hot Wheels Racetrack in a Christmas stocking, Hutch. You'd have to hang it on the side of a house, not by a chimney with care."

Hutch enjoyed the humorous imagery of Starsky's argument but he was not impressed by Starsky's logic. 

"Christmas is Jesus' birthday, right?"

"Supposedly."

"Then wrap the gifts up and put them in a decorative pile on the floor like we do for everyone else's birthday. God made trees too. Let them grow."

"Humbugs must live in trees," Starsky said.

Hutch chuckled but he still felt duty bound to protect hamadryads too.

Mr. Gelasius, one of the gardeners who'd tended the lawns and landscaping of the Hutchinson estate was a Greek man who'd taught Hutch about the pagan gods his ancestors used to worship. Hutch would listen to Krzysztofer tell him myth after myth while the knowledgeable elderly man taught him all he knew about plants too. Hutch was captivated by Krzysztofer's tales of the nymphs who lived in the trees. Each tree nymph had it's own tree. When the tree died so did she. Hamadryads lived in trees. Naiads were nymphs that lived in streams, ponds, and other fresh waters. Potameides were water nymphs that only lived in rivers. Oceanids were nymphs that only lived in oceans and Nereids were water nymphs that lived in the seas.

Hutch remembered how excited he was when he learned about the Greek sea goddess legends, because then he could tell Mr. Gelasius all about the Norse Wave Maidens. His Scandinavian grandfather had told him all about the great Viking sea goddess Ran who steered a ship with one hand and scooped drowning sailors out of the water with a net she held in the other hand. Ran had nine daughters, all of them giantesses, who would cavort in the water around the ship of a sailor they favored, pushing him towards his destination by splashing the ship with water they pushed towards the rudder playfully with their hands.

Hutch had always loved any kind of story about the sea. He'd grown up in The Land of A Thousand Lakes: Minnesota. Every summer he and his grandfather would go to a different lake every day and fish, weather permitting. While they bobbed around in the boat, Grandpa Eric would tell him wonderful stories about their sea-faring ancestors who pillaged and plundered their way across the world conquering people and stealing vast amounts of treasure. 

Hutch felt a bit like a hypocrite by proxy when he thought of that, because here he was a Hutchinson descendent of thieving Viking pirates lurking in an alley waiting to catch modern-day thieves. Humbled by the irony, Hutch started brooding. As soon as Starsky saw the worry line between Hutch's tawny brows digging a hole in his flesh again, he had to know what Hutch was fretting about now. 

Starsky was a very curious man and Hutch always intrigued him.

"Worry a little harder," Starsky teased. "Maybe you can turn that frown line inside out."

Hutch laughed. "I'm not worrying, Starsk. I'm contemplating something."

Starsky liked that word, so he smiled and said, "What are you contemplating?"

"If it's possible to be a hypocrite by proxy."

Hutch explained the memories he was musing about and the existential implications he was brooding about.

"Whoa! That's deep! No wonder your worry line was trying to dig a hole to China."

Massaging his brows in a vain attempt to get that furrowed piece of flesh to relax, Hutch had to admit that the fissure DID look like a tiny claw mark trying to burrow it's way into his brain so it could leave some scar tissue there too.

"Will you quit talking about that wrinkle like it's alive, Starsky. Your imagination is contagious. You're creeping me out again."

"See! You ARE superstitious. Admit it!"

"I'm not superstitious, I'm paranoid!" Hutch grumbled.

Starsky's laughter ricocheted around the car..

"The joke wasn't that funny, Starsk."

"Yeah it was. You just don't know why."

"Enlighten me," Hutch sassed.

Hutch had hurt his back a few days ago lugging bags of potting soil and fertilizer up the back stairs into his greenhouse. The nagging pain and discomfort of the muscle spasm was making Hutch fidgety and irritable. He couldn't get comfortable and stakeouts were always hard on what limited patience either of them had. Starsky was restless too, but he could burn off the excess energy bopping to the great mix of Christmas tunes and Top 40 hits that their favorite radio station K-P-A-L was playing tonight. 

Hutch didn't know how Starsky could bounce and read at the same time, but Starsky was chair dancing to Jingle Bell Rock as he flipped to the page he wanted in Christmas Humor For Humbugs and said, "These jokes remind me of the time we went undercover at Cabrillo State. Listen to this!"

Starsky had went undercover as a mental patient named Rudy Skyler and Hutch had went undercover as an orderly named Hansen to expose some very diabolical crimes taking place at the local mental hospital. They barely survived that assignment. Hutch didn't even want to think about how the knockout drug in that poisoned apple had reawakened the sleeping demon of drug addiction inside of him because the formula for that experimental medication was a chemically altered opiate similar to heroin.

"Trust me, these are coping mechanisms," Starsky assured Hutch when he saw the scowl on the tormented blond's handsome face. "This list is called: Christmas Carols For The Psychiatrically Challenged.

Psychiatrically wasn't a word, and Hutch was about to tell Starsky that, when Starsky interrupted him and said. "It's all about music, Hutch. You're gonna enjoy this."

Hutch didn't particularly like Christmas songs but he started chuckling as soon as Starsky held out the book and said, ''See! The list is written like a dictionary with words and their definitions."

Clearing his throat comically, Starsky changed his voice every time he read a new definition. He also acted out the first one. Clutching the book to his chest like he'd heard and seen a ghost, Starsky said: SCHIZOPHRENIA: Do You Hear What I Hear?

Hutch was still chuckling when Starsky said, "The next one is about New Yorkers."

Starsky paused, then he deliberately emphasized the slight Brooklyn accent he still retained in his speech patterns. With verbal swagger that amounted to attitude, Starsky said, MULTIPLE PERSONALITY: We Three Queens Disoriented Are."

Neither one of them were bigots, that's what made Starsky's lame joke so funny.

"The punster was talking about gay men, dummy."

"I know, but I wasn't."

The only Hutchinson Humbug Christmas complaint Starsky agreed with was that I'll Be Home For Christmas had to be the saddest Christmas song ever written. It was just too melancholy. So Starsky never minded when Hutch turned that song off as soon as a radio station started playing it. Listening to that song depressed Starsky too. 

I'll Be Home For Christmas was written during World War II. Armed Forces Radio had played that song during the holidays when his father and uncles had served in the Korean War and they were still playing it when Starsky was an Army Ranger & Special Forces commando during the Vietnam War. The wistful song brought back too many heart breaking memories and the memory of how it felt to be so homesick when you knew that at any moment you could get shot or step on a landmine and never see home again.

Hutch marveled at the equanimity with which Starsky said, "DEMENTIA: I Think I'll Be Home For Christmas." Starsky hadn't told him much about happened to him in 'Nam. He couldn't. The details were classified. But Hutch knew enough to realize how amazing it was that Starsky's Christmas spirit was so much stronger than the horrible memories that still gave him nightmares that made him wake up screaming sometimes.

Starsky's smile was not one bit melancholy when he grinned at Hutch and said, "Remember how you were talkin' about vanity a few minutes ago?"

"Yeah?"

"NARCISSISTIC: Hark The Herald Angels Sing (About Me)," Starsky said. "Now THAT's vanity, Babe."

"This one will be your favorite, Hutch. It talks about almost all the stuff you don't like about Christmas." Starsky acted like he was frantic as he said, "MANIA!!!! Deck The Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office And Town--or: Deck The Halls and Spare No Expense!"

Hutch was laughing so hard his sides ached when Starsky got done reading that one.

"You're right! So far that one is my favorite," Hutch said as he extended his long arm across the seat so he could tousle his partner's luxuriant dark chocolate colored curls.

"This one is my favorite," Starsky said. "PARANOIA: Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me!" 

"Help!" Starsky yelled as loud as he dared. The last thing he wanted to do was blow their cover.

Hutch was still laughing when Starsky went nuts acting out: "OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE: Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock; Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock…

 

"Stop it!" Hutch pleaded. "I'm going to pee my pants AND end up in traction."

Instantly concerned, Starsky quit smiling and looked so contrite it made Hutch feel guilty for fibbing.

"Is this jarring your back?" Starsky fretted, his apologetic eyes wide with worry.

"No," Hutch assured him, rubbing the back of Starsky's neck ruefully as he said, "I think you invented a new kind of acupuncture, Starsk. Every time you make my belly shake when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly I can feel the muscles relaxing. It's working the kinks OUT, not tying me up in more knots. Thanks. I was just being a brat."

Starsky sighed and his relief was not only visible it was palpable. Then he stuck out his tongue at Hutch, glared at Hutch comically and made his voice sound very petulant when he said: "PERSONALITY DISORDER: You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Pout, Then MAYBE I'll Tell You Why."

Chuckling, Hutch grabbed Starsky by the scruff of the neck and pulled his sexy partner closer. No one could see them--hopefully--so Hutch gave Starsky a smoldering kiss that left Starsky with a dreamy expression on his face. Dazed by desire, Starsky said, "I'll tell you anything you want to know if you keep kissing me like that."

For the moment Starsky began by telling Hutch his name, rank and badge number. Then he told Hutch his shoe size and how long his cock was.

"I know, " Hutch gloated. "I like buying you shoes and your cock is a two fisted wonder, Lover Boy."

The compliment pleased Starsky. He was proud of his virility and the fact that Hutch was addicted to his cock. 

"The feeling is very mutual, Babe. I crave your cock all the time and I love buying you plants."

Half the plants in Hutch's greenhouse were presents from Starsky.

"This one is not going to describe either of us any more Hutch. DEPRESSION: Silent anhedonia, Holy anhedonia. All is calm. All is pretty lonely."

The sentimental devotion in those words made Hutch melt. The long, lonely nights were over for them both now that they had become lovers. They were together 24/7 and they were loving every minute of it.

Starsky suddenly got very vigilant very quickly. A convoy of cars was slowing down and turning into the parking lot. Eight guys in elf costumes got out of three different vehicles. Santa's Helpers went into the warehouse together, threw open the garage door--and all Hell broke loose!

Five guys on motorcycles burst from the shadowy depths of a wooded area near the warehouse and converged on the van. They swarmed around the van like angry bees creating a diversion so five more guys dressed like ninjas could jump off the roof of the warehouse onto the roof of the van.

The hijackers moved so fast and so efficiently--hostages were taken before anyone on the surveillance teams could intervene. Dobey got on the secure channel they were all connected to and ordered everyone to "MOVE!!! CLOSE IN!!!"

The hijackers were just as surprised as they had been to find themselves surrounded by unmarked cop cars topped by whirling red lights that looked like Rudolph's severed nose had been glued to the roofs of the detective’s cars a dozen times over.

The thieves who were dressed like ninjas kept their guns pressed against the temples of the driver and the guy in the passenger seat and tried to bully their way out of the jam they were in.

Meanwhile the thieves on motorcycles created chaos by desperately trying to make escapes. They were chased, intercepted and caught one by one as a police helicopter hovered overhead assisting from the air, with the relative of a cop who used to be a cameraman from a local news station filming the entire takedown from the belly of the 'copter code named Dragonfly.

All the thieves were dressed in black. The ones on the motorcycles were wearing black helmets with black visors. The ninjas were wearing ninja togs that included the traditional hood-masks.

Starsky's Beretta was still in his holster. In his hands was a rifle the SWAT team snipers used. Starsky had been a sniper in 'Nam. His marksmanship was unsurpassed. Every time Starsky competed in competitions he brought home the coveted trophy. 

The feral beauty of Starsky's features was so intense at the moment it was blinding. Those sultry features became chillingly fierce when Starsky was focused in combat mode. Those intense cobalt blue eyes could freeze the blood in your veins. 

Not for the first time, Hutch and anyone else who could see Starsky's face were damn glad Mike Starsky’s son had grown up to be a cop and not a criminal. Starsky as an outlaw was just too scary to contemplate. 

"BACK OFF OR WE'LL BLOW THEIR BRAINS OUT!" the ninja-thief who was holding the driver hostage bellowed at the top of his lungs.

The other three ninjas who'd jumped onto the roof of the van couldn't get at the other elves in the van to hold them hostage and use them as human shields, so they bailed. They scrambled off the van, dropped their weapons and ran behind the van shouting, "WE SURRENDER!!! DON’T SHOOT!!!"

None of the cops tried to shoot the thieves, but the ninjas who were holding the driver and the passenger hostage shot at the detectives. Minnie Kaplan hit one of the fleeing felons with a bullet that sent him sprawling. The other two kept on running, leaving their comrade behind, proving why that old axiom: There's No Honor Among Thieves was so true it was a cliché to cops.

The fallen thief didn't move, so he was probably dead. They'd know soon enough if he was just playing Opossum. Dobey got on the bullhorn and started shouting back at his team to provide the distraction the injured man would need to make another escape attempt.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE MEN!!!! CODE SEVENTEEN!!!!" Dobey shouted, his deep bass voice booming like thunder, his face as angry as a wrathful Nubian Zeus.

Code Seventeen meant 'Eat Them For Lunch At Your Discretion'. 

Starsky waited. So did other members of Metro's SWAT team who were swarming into position like quiet deadly ants.

The elves in the vans were cops from Foothill Division who'd volunteered to ride shotgun so no civilian lives would be jeopardized. They gave Nolte and Phaneuf a chance to defuse the situation if they could. Neither of them said a word, because the stink of fear sweat was pouring off the gunmen in nauseating waves.

When the ninja-thief holding Nolte hostage bellowed back almost immediately, the takedown team knew that Nolte and Phaneuf were too busy praying to use any hostage negotiation techniques themselves.

Dobey trusted his instincts and did not tell the hostage takers that the BCPD does the same thing the NYPD does: they don't negotiate with hostage takers who try to use cops as human shields. Cops knew this before they volunteered to go into a potential hostage situation, so Nolte and Phaneuf knew just how vulnerable they were. Vulnerable but not expendable: Dobey was a captain you could trust. The last thing he wanted was to bring any cop home in a body bag tonight, so Dobey nodded to Hutch and the blond's tense but dulcet voice could be heard over the radios murmuring "Stay in the whale's belly Jonah Team. David's gonna slay Goliath. I repeat, David's gonna slay Goliath."

Starsky felt confident that he could pluck both gunmen off without risking the cops inside the van who were prepared to burst out of the escape hatch that had been installed in the roof of the trailer attached to the rig of the delivery van. It looked like an ordinary ventilation hatch, but it was anything but ordinary. It was installed as a trap door you could spring out of like a Jack in-the-Box. Merle the Earl had not exaggerated one bit when he said that the ingenious trap door was one of his finest 'automobile alteration endeavors'. 

Angered by the audacity of these heartless Grinch-like thieves, Starsky was a marvel of focus and determination, 

Stealing toys from needy families and orphans meant theses creeps were The Lowest of the Low in Starsky's opinion. //They need an attitude adjustment,// Starsky thought silently daring them to be more stupid.

One thing about greed, it's predictable. All greedy people want is more, more, more. Their obsession made them think they were entitled to have anything their heart desired. Heaven help anyone who stood the way of an avaricious person when they were trying to acquire something they coveted. That bizarre belief in their own entitlement made greedy people dangerously delusional.

"LET US GO AND WE LET THEM LIVE!! ALL WE WANT IS THE VAN!!"

Hutch was out of patience. He grabbed the bullhorn out of Dobey's hand, because the LTD was parked right next to Dobey's Thunderbird.

"THE VAN'S EMPTY, DUMB ASS! GO AHEAD, STEAL A BUNCH OF EMPTY BOXES WRAPPED IN CHRISTMAS PAPER! DON'T YOU KNOW A SET-UP WHEN YOU SEE ONE?”

Stunned, the robbers froze.

Hutch was lying through his teeth but the ploy was demoralizing to the thieves.

Furious, they argued with each other about what they should do.

"God dammit!!" swore the thief holding Phaneuf hostage was NOT pleased.

"They're bluffing!" snarled the thief holding Nolte hostage.

The cops could hear every word courtesy of listening devices they'd planted inside the van.

"No they're not! This was a set-up from the beginning. Surrender, man. It ain't worth it."

The thief holding Nolte hostage pointed his gun at the thief holding Phaneuf hostage. "Surrender and you're a dead man, Stu. I'll kill you myself."

"Go ahead!" Stu yelped as he jumped backwards off the running boards on the outside of the rig. Phaneuf threw himself forward immediately and tucked his head between his knees and put his arms over his head like he was on a plane crash landing in the ocean.

Two shots rang out simultaneously. The shot the hostage taker fired at his accomplice and the shot Starsky fired from his rifle. Stu never got hit by a bullet but the guy who tried to kill him ended up with a perforated skull that looked like someone had drilled holes to install Frankenstein bolts in his temples for Halloween.

In one temple and out the other, the entrance and exit wounds were what the coroner would call "through and through". The thief fell backwards with a sickening splat, his gun flying from his hand like a discarded toy. Game over.

Cops swarmed en masse, like a bunch of cowboys rounding up and subduing the herd of cowering thieves who had sense enough to know when they were beaten. One down, nine caught. It seemed rather symbolic when you stopped to think about it. According to the classic poem Twas The Night Before Christmas, Santa's sleigh was pulled by eight magical reindeer. Then, someone created the song about Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer and a ninth magical reindeer became a legend overnight. It seemed like poetic justice that nine thieves were being hauled off to jail after trying to rob a van called The Reindeer Express on Christmas Eve.

It was the wee hours of Christmas Day, a few hours before dawn, before the takedown team said their goodbyes to Dobey in the parking lot of Siren's Diner. The restaurant was open 24/7 365 days a year and Dobey treated every man who wanted to attend to a Christmas meal to show his appreciation. The men with children took a raincheck knowing Dobey would give them gift certificates for a meal they could redeem at their convenience. The single men lingered to enjoy Dobey's heartfelt hospitality. 

Siren's Diner was located a half a block from Metro Precinct. The food was good, hot, plentiful and reasonably priced. The feast was very satisfying and Dobey welcomed any chance he could find to bond with his officers off-duty as well. 

When the last egg had been eaten and the last sip of coffee savored, everyone went their separate ways with a chuckle when Dobey said, "Merry Christmas To All and To All A Goodnight!" because Dobey looked like Santa Claus in civilian clothes all year round. 

"I hope we see you boys later," Dobey said as he got in his car after everyone else had left. Starsky and Hutch were like sons to him. They had a standing invitation to drop in to visit Dobey and his family anytime--especially on Christmas Day.

"We'll drop by if we have time, Cap."

Dobey smiled at them knowingly. He knew what THAT meant. Starsky and Hutch had visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads now too. They had nineteen hours of Christmas snuggling to do.

Settling down for a long winter's nap might happen, but Dobey doubted it. They'd work off the adrenaline rush in ways that delighted them both. Starsky loved Christmas and he loved Hutch. The only thing he needed now was cookies. 

Dobey knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hutch would have plenty of sugary treats to keep his Cookie Monster happy. 

Dobey laughed when he saw Hutch lean over and take something out of the glove compartment as soon as they got in the beige junkheap. Starsky was sitting in the passenger seat with a salacious smirk on his face that turned into a whoop of joy when Hutch pulled a sandwich bag full of cookies out of the hiding place and gave them to his mischievous partner.

Simple things gave Starsky such great joy. 

"Cookies!" Starsky shouted, happy as a five-year old boy. "You're the best, Hutch!" Starsky said as he shoved a cookie into his lover's mouth like it was a piece of wedding cake.

Laughing, Hutch talked with his mouth full saying, "Want one?" to Dobey as their cars idled in the parking lot facing opposite directions.

"Sure," Dobey said, never one to turn down the offer of free food--especially something sweet.

"Take your pick, Cap," Starsky said, handing the bag to Hutch so he could hand their stash of cookies to Dobey.

Laughing after he selected a chocolate chip cookie, Dobey put his car in gear and said, "We better vamoose before someone thinks we're doing a drug deal."

Starsky and Hutch chuckled as they watched Dobey drive out of sight; a snowfall of crumbs falling onto his tie.

Hutch finished eating his ginger snap and Starsky finished eating his molasses cookie. The cookies were homemade and very satisfying, so, of course they wanted another one immediately.

"Wanna snowball?" Starsky asked as he plucked out the round bon-bon looking cookie that had been rolled in powdered sugar. Hutch had wrapped it in a bit of plastic wrap and tied a little piece of ribbon around it so the powdered sugar wouldn't contaminate every cookie in the bag.

Hutch was a purist when it came to cookies. Like a little kid who did not want any of the food on his plate to touch each other.

Hutch chuckled devilishly as he put the LTD into gear. "No. I want your balls, my Sexy Sugarplum."

Plucking his Santa hat off the pile of junk in Hutch's back seat, Starsky put it on Hutch's head as they drove through the Christmas Day streets of Bay City. 

"Your Christmas Wish is my command, Santa Hutch! Drive this shabby sleigh of yours back to Venice Place so I can make love to you all day long."

"Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus," Hutch gloated. "His name is David Michael Starsky."

THE END


End file.
